Then Fall Hobbes
by Jhomeboy
Summary: FINAL CHAPTER UP! Hobbes, having been replaced by the new tiger, seems to have won his place back in Calvin's life. What happens when Chic returns and with a vengence.
1. New Tiger on the Block

Another little C&H ficcie. I just thought of this one day. Imagine! A thought! I cherish the "thought"…hey, there's another one! I'm good at this. Read, pweeze? Wid a cherwy on towp? Fine, be that way. Jerks…

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN CALVIN AND HOBBES. I HAVE NO FREE WILL OF MY OWN. I LIVE TO SERVE. PILLS! PILLS! PILLS! TURN ME OFF, TURN ME OFF!

The wind skirted along the sides of Calvin's earmuffs, making a high whirling shriek that screamed in his ear. He yelped in pain and collapsed to the ground, but his cries were lost in the wind. The wind kicked up and the increasing cold bit at Calvin's face. Icy cold tears streamed down his face, but began to crystallize halfway across his cheek. He yelped again and slipped down backwards and unwittingly onto his sled.

The snow had been puffy, thanks to the extreme cold, and would have ridden well if not for the maelstrom of wind. This thought crossed Calvin's mind as the sled jolted and began its sudden trek down the hill, with Calvin on his back, backwards, and cowering for warmth.

Calvin turned his head slightly, taking in another gust of wind to his face, and realized he was starting to slide down the hill. This would be a very painful ride, for the face they had just traveled up was not made for sledding, seeing as it was covered with trees, bushes, and a small river at the bottom. This had just been the quickest way home, they decided. Unfortunately.

Calvin covered his face quickly, not wanting to see his imminent doom as the sled began to speed up, just above a trudge, but began quickly. As the sled began to speed up, almost to entry speed, a fury hand shot out and grabbed the sled, bringing it to a dead stop.

Calvin looked up to find his friendly, neighborhood Hobbes grasping the sled's bottom, assuring Calvin's security. Snow was blowing harshly across the tiger's face, turning it from yellow ochre to an eerie white, and through this and the knife-like wind, he was still able to smile. 

"You okay, Calvin?" He nodded and slumped off of the sled. "Yeah, just, uh, testing it." 

Hobbes smiled through the lie. "Uh _huh_! Well, we should probably get inside. We've only been out here five minutes and I feel ready to collapse and die. Shall we go in?"

"Yeah." said Calvin, distantly. He was staring down the hill he almost had plummeted down. The trees were large with trunks of thick, and many bushes that had let their leaves die, but their little spines still stuck out, willing to lodge themselves into somebody's eye, and a half-frozen river at the bottom just looked all too inviting for some pneumonia. 

Calvin twisted up and abruptly hugged Hobbes. He was caught off guard, but returned the favor. As the wind picked up and swirled and skirted about, an onlooker would have said it sounded almost like ominous, soap-opera music just as Calvin opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't ever leave, Hobbes. I don't know what I'd do without you."

* ** *

At the moment, also in the swirling maelstrom of wind and white powdery fluffiness strolled the mother of Calvin. She had clutched in her hands two beige-brown paper bags from Meijer. She juggled them in her hands as she fumbled for her keys, and puffed a breath of warmth and relief as she was able to set them down on the table.

She looked out the back bay windows to see Calvin and his stuffed tiger starting to trudge their way up the hill, looking miserable. She smiled gingerly, and she would make him some hot chocolate to go along with his new surprise she had gotten him. She started to heat the water, and then grabbed the hot chocolate syrup and the marshmallows. 

Calvin was trudging up through the backyard with the sled. She would have to go fast to get it ready. She reached into one of the paper bags and pulled out his new surprise and set it down next to the mug with the hot cocoa syrup in it, and then placed the hot water next to it.

Calvin walked through the back door and looked into the dining room to find his surprise. The hot chocolate was something welcomed and familiar, but next to it was something new and totally unexpected.

There, next to the hot chocolate, stood a new stuffed tiger. 

(a/n, "stuffed tiger" from the mother's point of view, not Calvin's.)


	2. Chic to Chic

Disclaimer: I don't own Calvin and Hobbes. No, really. I don't. However, I _do_ own Chic, and any unlawful use of her is liable for a me to put a coupla holes in your head, pardner. 

Calvin quickly took of his hat, shaking it of snow without thinking, and brought his eyes back down on the new tiger.

She was tall and slender, lean and mean, a real tiger machine. Well, tall to an extent. She was just as tall as Hobbes, and just as slender but rather than the Killer Eye that Hobbes seemed to posses, she had that Sexy Eye. He almost expected to see lipstick materialize on her lips. Her soft green eyes were tracing over Calvin, then over to Hobbes, but back to Calvin again. She looked quite, quite soft, and cuddle-able in front of the fire, and just in time for Christmas too. 

The new tiger lifted herself from the table and onto the ground with a soft _pat!_ Calvin smiled timidly as she strolled over to Calvin and brought a finger up and through his hair.

"So you must be Calvin." she said in a voice that would have sounded sexy if not for the fact it had come from a tiger. "That's all I heard from your mom on the way here." the slow, sexy voice floated into his ears. He smiled. " 'Oh, Calvin will just love this new tiger' and the sort. And I take you are Calvin, and I take this is the old tiger." she said, motioning to Hobbes.

Hobbes growled and bared his teeth, and to Calvin's surprise (as he hadn't expected it from her) she crouched low and suddenly rows of point-like teeth appeared in her mouth and lounged forward, unleashing a roar that made Hobbes' roars sound like whimpers. Hobbes stopped in his tracks and Calvin, for the first time in his life, saw mortal fear in his Killer Eye. 

"Anyway, before we were rudely interrupted, I was just about to give you my name. I'm Chic, the new tiger in town. May I inquire as to whom this may be?" 

Calvin looked in the direction of her pointing hand. "Oh, that's just Hobbes."

__

Just Hobbes?!

"Cheek." Calvin said, almost stupidly.

Just _Hobbes?!_

"No, it's said 'Cheek,' but not so heavy on the 'ck.' Chic."

Just Hobbes_?!_

"Oh, I see. So, do you want a tour of the house?" 

Chic looked again at Hobbes, then nodded slowly. "It would be a pleasure. I would love to see what the house of Calvin looks like. Oh, he can come with us too, if he wants." 

Hobbes grumbled and followed obediently after as they left the kitchen.

* ** *

Calvin fluffed up his pillow to the right fluffiness, then set it back down onto his bedspread, then climbed in. He snuggled up, then watched with fascination as Chic climbed onto the covers, encircled herself three times, then settled under the covers.

A minute later, Hobbes, freshly brushed for the night, walked in to find his spot had been taken by Chic. 

"Uh, I don't mean to complain, Chic, but it appears you are in my spot." She shrugged. "Hobbes, c'mon. She's new, and she deserves to sleep in the bed tonight. You can sleep on the foot of the bed-"

"Like a dog." He shot back to Calvin.

"OR you can sleep on the floor. It's your choice." Hobbes grumbled and grabbed his pillow and settled onto the ground. 

He shivered from the lack of blankets and suddenly felt very alone. To increase the feeling, the light suddenly blinked off. 

"Goodnight, Chic." 

"Goodnight…Calvin." 

Hobbes waited, anticipating for his goodnight.

It never came. 

Hobbes growled lightly, and mentally he marked that Chic would pay.

He would see to that. 


	3. Bear the Other Chic

Disclaimer: I think I can, I think I can, I think I can…win my lawsuit with Bill Watterson for unlawful use of his characters. See, it turns out I don't own them…oh well. However, I do own Chic, and I can drag you to court just as easily. :-/

I like this story, but I don't know if I should continue. I will write more chapters if I get lots of reviews, and don't think this is a way to get extra reviews from you all.

"Oh boy! Sleep! That's where I'm a Viking!" 

__

~Ralph Wiggim~ Simpsons

"Well, I'll be home in six hours, okay Chic? Hobbes knows when I come home from school, and he knows his way around the house, so you can ask him any questions that you may have while I'm gone." Calvin said and then hugged her quickly. 

"Cya after school." And, to Hobbes, almost surprise, turned to him and ruffled his hair, an odd sudden trait, but still, better than being ignored. "Cya Hobbes. Show her the ropes while I'm gone."

Hobbes waved goodbye, although he had promised himself a twenty-four hour oath of silence for he was pissed at Calvin, but at least he was noticing him again. He had said good morning to him first, but he expressed more enthusiasm to Chic. 

Hobbes waved him out, and kind of wished he had walked out to the bus stop with Calvin, but he said tomorrow to show Chic what it was like. He had nodded. 

The yellow bus pulled up, and then disappeared down the road, and he could barely see him, but he knew at which window Calvin was. A rather fat kid was blocking him, but his blond spikes were visible over the chunkier kids shaved head. 

Hobbes remained at the window for a minute, thinking about random things, but all seemed to rotate around one thing: Chic. He shook his head and walked away from the green curtains and into the living room, to his favorite sun spot. He had some sun to get. A sun spot on the living room floor was always the best way to warm up in the wintertime. 

Of course, it looks like he couldn't today. There was already a yellow-ochre feline in that spot, the one that had clearly had his name on it. 

Chic was spread out on the white carpeting, licking her lips from her breakfast and lapping up the sun from the bright patch on the carpet. Hobbes slinked over and glared at her. She stopped licking and looked up with the sexy-impatient look she possessed. 

"Can I help you?" "I believe you are in my spot."

She closed her eyes and smiled. "Oh, that. So?"

Hobbes resisted the urge to get up and growl at her. He expected her to suddenly rear into that ferocious height she had yesterday at him, and didn't want that. He snuffed and turned away. 

* ** *

Hobbes grinned as his watch scrolled from 3:29:59 to 3:30:00. He looked up and out the window to see the large yellow bus amble up the street and roll solitarily to the curb, letting Calvin, Susie, and several other kids out.

Calvin walked up the sidewalk, like every other day, not thinking about it. He hummed, with other things on his mind. He did not think about a certain orange striped individual who had a habit of flying out of that door.

Hobbes suddenly realized he wasn't in position. He had been stewing over Chic when he had glanced at his watch. He was normally in position, but today…well, today he wasn't. He quickly jumped from the living room to the front hall and-

…nearly tripped over Chic, who had been crouched over the red throw-rug. 

"Wha-?" mumbled Hobbes as he tumbled onto the floor. The door flew open and in came Calvin, shouting "I'm home!"

Chic flew forward, a yellow-ochre blur. Hobbes was fast, almost a lightning bolt, but his leaps seemed to be nothing compared to Chic as she came into contact with Calvin, knocking him out of the doorway and halfway across the lawn. 

Hobbes struggled to his feet and walked out the ajar door and into the lawn.

A fifteen foot long strip of land was torn up in the path from the door to the dirtied Chic and Calvin, who were both simultaneously climbing out of their crater. _Let's see what Calvin thinks about Chic now…_

But to his surprise, Calvin came out laughing. Chic was smiling and helped him out of the hole. Calvin, dusting off his shirt, laughed lightly. "Wow, Chic. Your second day and already you got the basics down."

Hobbes was dumbstruck. Calvin had _never_ laughed when Hobbes had rocketed at him. He always called him a big lumbox, or rocket-butt. Never anything positive. What the hell was going on?

Chic and Calvin walked up to the porch. "Oh, hey Hobbes. Did you see the welcome that Chic gave me." Hobbes nodded. He rubbed his fanny from his fall. "Yeah, the welcome I had for you." 

Calvin laughed. "Well, come on. Let's go clean up Chic." Calvin and Chic passed Hobbes and began their ascent up. Chic threw a look over her shoulder at Hobbes.

What Hobbes really hated was the smug smile stained on her lips. 


	4. Et tu`, Calvi`?

Disclaimer: I own only Chic. Short and to da point. This chapter is mostly shifting POV's, but oddly, each shift is in the third person. That kinda contradicts the statement, but I don't care. I needed a "throwaway" chapter.

Oh, and a note to Elvinking: God, sorry if my Death of a Fanfic Writer was kinda like your TorD story. Sometimes a story sinks into my subconscious. I once wrote a story about a nuke going off and the survivors ban together and have to survive with the threat of another survivor/killer. I then realized that this was the nuclear version of Stephen King's "The Stand." So, I'm so sowwy….*sniff sniff*. 

"What? Me fail English? That's unpossible!"

__

~Ralph Wiggim~ Simpsons

Chic was in the living room, alone, cleaning herself with her tongue.

Perfect.

Chic looked up at the sound of the roar, but did not stand up or even flinch as her fellow tigermate leapt into the living room and with a claw-retracted paw knocked Chic onto her side. She growled but Hobbes roared something fierce into her face. Chic stopped, but not in fear. That sexual curiosity was still in her face.

"Alright, listen up! I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I've decided I'm going to lay down the law here! I'm the tiger here, I am the highest position here! You can be my subordinate, but nothing more! You cannot shun me like that, throw me into the cold and replace me! Calvin may be fawning after you, but he will soon see the error of his ways! And then you will be denounced back to your lower status, and you will realize that I am the tiger here." 

Chic smiled. 

Hobbes roared again and bounded off. Chic watched him off, and then returned to her cleaning. 

* ** *

Upon entering the room, one might think that Hobbes was chasing down some lunch. Maybe a villager or some environmentalist who got lost in the jungle. It looks about right, because he is on his back. His legs twitch in anticipation and seem to be almost running on a small level. He is licking his lips occasionally, and if one didn't know better, one might think that when Hobbes mumbling on his back, he was shouting to the villager.

However, one would be wrong.

Deep in Hobbes' mind, he was indeed running. There was no doubt there. However, he wasn't the one chasing, but rather he was being chased. Hobbes ran and rang with all of his might and yet he seemed to get nowhere upon the tie-dye ground. Behind him his tormentor was catching up. He couldn't see it for behind him was dark and shadowy, but he could hear it. 

Suddenly, from the shadows popped Chic, except enlarged. She seemed to be at least fifty feet tall if his dream had real dimensions or systems of measurement. Or maybe Hobbes had just gotten smaller. But whatever it was, she was still gaining quickly. 

This Chic seemed to be the same from the real world, Hobbes thought. That cold, sexy stare she gave Hobbes, the smug smile stained on her lips. This was Chic, he knew it. 

Chic had caught up with Hobbes in frightening bounds. Hobbes stopped in his tracks and stared up into the face of the Chic. 

She smiled and bent down so her enlarged nose was no more than two feet from Hobbes. 

"Surrender. You cannot defeat me. I am Chic." 

Hobbes opened his mouth and screamed and screamed and screamed.

Suddenly, she was gone. The floor was gone. Hobbes was hovering in dead space, it seemed. Nothing to harm him here. Nothing to-

"Calvin?" 

There, fixated before him, was a familiar blonde-spiky-haired kid that he just loved and knew. 

"Calvin?" He asked again in hope of an answer. He smiled at Hobbes.

"I'm sorry Hobbes. I have to go now. Chic and I are going to play."

"What?! What happened to 'Don't ever leave me, Hobbes'? Huh? What happened to our friendship? What happened to Calvin?"

Calvin was starting to fade quickly, growing transparent before Hobbes' eyes. Before he was completely gone and before Hobbes was to wake up with a gasp, Calvin uttered four words that chilled Hobbes' blood.

"That was before Chic."

* ** *

Downstairs, in a beam of light projected by a Friday winter day, Chic lay, fast asleep. Big cats don't purr, say the experts. The experts have never heard Chic.

She lay on her back, gathering the rays, making her melodic noises deep on her chest of her dream. 

In her dream, she was plain and regular sexy-killer Chic. She was hunting in the forest, trying to find her prey. 

Her prey scurried in the bushes before her. She pranced forward and roared. It was Calvin. Calvin faced and, instead of running, started to walk toward Chic. 

__

Easy prey, she thought.

Suddenly, Calvin's father jumped in to rescue Calvin from the open hands of Chic. He had his Garand rifle with him, and was ready to blow Chic's head off. Except, on a second glance, Chic saw that it wasn't really Calvin's dad but Hobbes in his clothes. He raised the Garand, ready to defend Calvin. 

Hobbes was greedy. He wanted Calvin all for himself, and all for the wrong reasons, friendship and the likes. Chic just had to get past his guard and Calvin would be all his. She smiled and mentally she struck Hobbes. 

And then she purred some more.

* ** *

Not five feet from Chic, a historical marker was made. Calvin was actually inside on a Friday afternoon with a foot and a half of snow on the ground. He was sleeping hard, shifting in his seat, trying to allure some nightmare perhaps. He shouldn't even been in the living room napping. He was getting ready to go outside when he suddenly got the urge to sit down, and then lie down, and then close his eyes, and then not try to struggle as his eyelids grew heavy. Soon, he was asleep as Chic purred. He still had his snowsuit and boots on. 

In his dream, Calvin was in his house, in the living room. A fire was blazing in the fireplace, seemed to be a little big though. 

He looked up. Hobbes and Chic were there, on opposite sides of the room. They refused to look at each other. 

"Hey guys!" He said and trotted between them, waiting for them to walk to him.

They didn't budge.

"Guys…I'm here now. Now we can all go sledding or have a snowball fight or something." Hobbes and Chic turned to face Calvin. Chic was smiling in that sexy way and Hobbes would not look him in the eye. 

"What's going on?" Chic glanced at Hobbes, then back to Calvin. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Calvin, but it would appear that you have to choose between us. I'm sorry."

"What? Why can't I play with the both of you?" 

Chic shrugged. "It just hast to be this way." 

Calvin looked from Hobbes to Chic. "Okay, I think I've found a loophole." with the biggest Bambi eyes he could conjure, he looked up. " 'I choose dem both, pweeze?' There, how was that." 

Chic smiled and Hobbes just stared at the floor. 

"If only it worked. But it can't." Calvin frowned.

"Just pick Chic already. We know you will. I'm surprised you didn't run to her immediately."

"Hobbes?" 

"Just go play with her. I'm the old tiger. I'm not new, and you might as well. That's all you've done for the past two days, play with her and ignore me."

"I was just trying to make her feel welcome. You could have joined if you wanted."

Hobbes brought his eyes up to meet Calvin's.

"Would it have mattered?"

Calvin felt hurt, betrayed. _He _had never meant to ignore Hobbes. He just wanted to make Chic feel welcome. 

"When you wake up, Calvin, don't make the same mistake." 

Calvin looked up at Hobbes, hurt, and then to Chic, who was looking somber. However, before he had turned to her, he would have sworn he had seen her smile in his side view. 

Hobbes reached over and pinched Calvin's arm and suddenly-

* ** *

he was awake again.

Calvin panted heavily, and realized he was still on the couch. 

"It was all a dream…it was all a dream…Hobbes is still my friend." But it was true, he had been betraying their friendship. Not deliberately, but still he had. 

Calvin stood up and decided to go sledding to clear his head. 

On his way out, he watched Chic lay on her back, twitching and purring. Before he would leave, he would swear he heard "I got you Calvin."


	5. Hell is Chic Scorned

Disclaimer: I do not own Calvin and Hobbes.

Note to my FF.Net chums (HAHAHAHA "chums" is a funny word! HAHAHAHA!) My last story, Trial of Jhomeboy, was not meant to degrade or belittle anybody, and an apology to those who had felt that way if they did. My heart was in the right place, jerk.

"I found a moon-rock in my nose."

__

~Ralph Wiggim~ Simpsons

"Hobbes? Are you in here?"

Calvin peered timidly into his room, not really expecting to see Hobbes at all, and if he did he would know he would just have his back turned to him and would not respond. Calvin had betrayed their friendship that had meant a lot to Hobbes.

"Hobbes?" 

"I'm here." He said, and indeed his back was turned, but it didn't look like he was ignoring Calvin just yet.

"Hobbes, I just came in to say that…I'm sorry." 

Hobbes turned around, to Calvin's surprise. He looked Calvin right in the eye and smiled.

"Great. You're sorry, and you're forgiven. Just don't let it happen agai-"

Hobbes was cut short as Calvin ran across the room and quickly hugged Hobbes, knocking him to the bed he was sitting on. 

"That's better. I didn't know that I was betraying our friendship. I just wanted to make Chic feel welcome."

"Well, did you have to ignore me to do that?" Hobbes inquired, still hugging Calvin.

"I didn't mean to. I just got swept up in the excitement of it all. But I've learned now. We can make Chic feel comfortable together, each of us showing her something or whatever. What do you say?" 

"Great."

"Okay then. Calvin and Hobbes' friendship has been rebounded."

* ** *

__

Now, where's the Star Tuna? Don't they have any in this house.

Chic purred in frustration as she searched through the cabinets of the kitchen, frantically pushing aside cans of Ravioli and boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. She came up empty ever time.

She searched through the pantry, only finding fruits and a cereal, Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs. She could not only smell, but _sense_ the sugar without even opening the box. She snuffed and closed the pantry. She would have to rely on some other culinary sensation to help her through the day.

When she at last found some warm bread, fresh out of the bread maker, on the counter, she extracted a claw and began to cut away. After devouring a large piece with less than perfect table manners, she purred in delight and strolled into the living and into a patch of Saturday light. Christmas was coming, on Wednesday, and she had to decide what to get Calvin. She always did her best thinking in the sun. Maybe for Calvin she would get a nice scarf for his sledding trips, and for Hobbes…maybe what would appear to be an empty milk jug, but she could pump it full of cyanide gas. 

She purred at the thought.

And then on New Year's, while Calvin mourned the loss of Hobbes, and he no longer had anybody to protect him, and as the large crystal ball began to fall in New York, she would slink up behind him, claws raised, and then she would-

"Hobbes, I just came to say that…I'm sorry."

Chic looked up. 

"Great. You're sorry, and you're forgiven. Just don't let it happen agai-"

Chic hissed in frustration and walked over to the source of the noise. The heating vent, hushed in one of its silenced five minute intervals, echoed the words being spoken above her head. 

Sorry? He was _sorry_!? What about Chic? He could always turn back to his goody two-shoes friend whenever he wanted to. Chic was here now, and she needed to be welcomed before the final ball falls. She hissed and listened further.

Speech ended after a few more minutes and then the swing of a door opening and the thunderous sound of them descending the stairs made her quickly jump back into his sun spot and begin to pretend she was dozing.

"Let's not disturb her, okay? We'll play with her later. For now, let's for outside." 

Chic sat in silent frustration, seething in a pool of hatred for Calvin and Hobbes, mostly Hobbes, and listened as they suited up and left her for outside. Seconds later she heard them laughing and playing and a stray snowball, meant to smack Hobbes upside his fury head splattered its guts across the window. She hissed again and vowed she would make them pay. 

With their lives.


	6. Dark Side of the Moon

Part six in the story New York Times calls "A Complete Waste of Space!' 

"What was he thinking?"

-_San Francisco Chronicles-_

"What was he _smoking_?"

-_San Francisco Chronicles-_

"I've found better crap on the bottom of my shoe."

-_Chicago Tribune-_

"Four thumbs up…way up."

__

-Ebert-

Calvin and Hobbes, playing in joyful, ignorant bliss, were oblivious to the orange face in the window.

Chic glared, a scowl of hatred and enmity stained on her face. They would pay for betraying her. For leaving her inside while they left and had fun. 

Calvin ducked and laughed as a slush ball went hurling over his head. He quickly packed his own snowball and hurled it at Hobbes, who narrowly avoided getting hit. 

Calvin was suddenly splattered across the lawn with another blow to the chest. He went skittering five feet behind him and into the snow covered bushes. 

To the surprise of Hobbes, albeit deep inside he knew he would, Calvin stood up and started laughing. It was the best Saturday of the year, the Saturday before Christmas, and everything was A-OK. So what if you get sprayed with chilling slush all up in your face? It's Christmas!

Chic turned away in disgust. She would wait for them, wait, wait, wait some more, and then she would strike. She wouldn't hold it off till Christmas, like she was going to. This ended now.

* ** *

Calvin grasped the handle and strolled into the house. A wave of hot air greeted him and on the air was the scent of hot chocolate. Hmmmmmm….

Calvin and Hobbes laughed and shook off the snow before undressing their winter things. Hobbes was done first and trotted into the living room for the fire. It was easy when you only had a scarf to undo. 

What Hobbes realized at first when he entered the white room was that something was. He knew it as he saw a familiar yellow-ochre blur suspended in the air in his direction. 

Before Hobbes could utter and eep!, he was sprawled on the floor, parallel lines of crimson staining his chest. He looked up into the glaring green irises of Chic.

"Hobbes, it looks like we're home alone for an hour or two, according to mom's note…Chic, what are you doing?"

Chic smiled a grim smile, not the Sexy smile of before, but the grin of a maniacal genius. "Just setting things right, Calvin. Soon, it'll just be you and me, and everything will be alright, because we wont' have _Hobbes, _the foolish tiger before me, to ruin us. Isn't that right, _Hobbes_? Huh? _Hobbes?_" Each _Hobbes_ was then associated with a heavy push from Chic. Hobbes' blood was starting to run down his fluffy white chest.

Chic drew back her paw and Calvin's blood chilled as he watched her nails, already protruding out an inch or so, lengthen themselves five times it seemed.

"Just setting things right…"

Calvin jumped-dove, rather- right into Chic's chest, knocking her to the carpet. Her claws sank into the carpeting and entangled themselves. Hobbes got up slowly, putting a hand to his chest.

"That was a mistake, Calvin. Making sides with him was a mistake. I'll destroy you right after I destroy Hobbes, you'll see." 

Chic raised her hand, taking out a long threading of carpeting out. She bounded past Hobbes, turned on a dime and onto the stairs. Halfway to the landing, she stared at Calvin and hissed, and then turned back to upstairs.

Hobbes began to pound after her when Calvin halted him. "Stop. Better just let her cool out right now, let her see the error of her ways. She'll come to, and see that that is just the trouble of getting used to us. She'll see things our way soon."

Hobbes nodded and decided to join Calvin as he made his way to the kitchen for hot chocolate. Before he left, though he would have sworn he heard a noise rising from the silenced heating vent.

A sound that sounded like the chilling laugh of Chic.


	7. Lair of the Beast: Inside the Mind of Ch...

Disclaimer: I do not own Calvin and Hobbes.

Beware: Shifting POV's!

__

Lair of the Beast: Inside the Mind of Chic

No…cannot…no…stop…Hobbes, get away from him…he's mine!

I'll get you, my little pretty, and your little Hobbes too. I can assure you that. Siding with him was your mistake, I can promise you that.

I'll admit I was naïve at first, not factoring in that "Hobbes" could protect you no matter what. But I have learned. Come tomorrow, Hobbes will be so much paste on the wall.

He thinks he can protect Calvin, that he can ward me off. But I saw him melt away when I first pounced on him downstairs. I saw the fear in his eye, and I know he will still fear me in the future. Hobbes is nothing to be concerned about.

Calvin, however, will be harder to crack. He trusts me, which is good, but that means also he does not fear me as much. I will _make_ him fear me! Protest, and he will find a rather large jagged hole where his throat once was.

For that matter, Hobbes will also have a rather gruesome demise. Something gory. Something fast enough to excite me, yet slow enough to antagonize Hobbes in his last seconds of life. Maybe I'll pierce a lung. That's always fun. 

Hobbes will have to wait though.

Calvin dies first.

Calvin dies right now.

* ** *

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Calvin watched Hobbes cock his head to the side of his head again. He had heard something. Calvin, in his years of friendship, had learned not to doubt Hobbes when it came to his tiger senses.

"I think you door opened."

"Chic?"

"Well, besides her, we're the only ones here. Of course its her."

Calvin frowned and looked up from his sandwich. Now that he thought about it, he could have sworn he had heard a rather sneaky, malevolent tiger slink out of his door and did it quite slyly, albeit the door's small squeaky middle hinge had managed to give her away. Yeah, he could've sworn he heard that.

"Think she's cooled off by now?" asked Hobbes, getting up and stretching.

"Here's hoping."

Calvin walked into the front hallway and looked up the stairs. He couldn't see anything, although the upstairs had seemed to grow dark on the Saturday evening before Christmas. Before Calvin looked away, he would swear he had seen a flash of green iris in the dark.

"How about we go outside. We can invite Chic, and she'll feel more welcome." Hobbes nodded to the suggestion and started to suit up.

By the time Calvin was ready, Hobbes was already calling up to Chic.

"Uh, Chic…we'll be going outside and we want to know if you wanted to come?"

From the darkness came no answer. Back in his mind, Hobbes was glad. Although, in his mind's eye, he would see Chic on those stairs, hidden just barely from sight, teeth bared, ready to pounce down on him.

"Okay. Let's go. She'll come if she wants."

Calvin and Hobbes opened the door, and in a maelstrom of wind, exited the house.

Hobbes had been half right. She was indeed on those stairs, hidden from sight. Rather, she was bearing her rather long and sharp claws, a much deadlier weapon. 


	8. Edge of the Storm

Disclaimer: I do not own Calvin and Hobbes.

The snow felt colder than before, and that was good. That meant Christmas was coming. The snow felt something like the fluffy clouds of Heaven itself. Cool, yet not cold enough to freeze to the bone. Yeah, he could get used to this.

Calvin rushed out, leaped, and landed in a reverse snow angel, face down.

Hobbes laughed and followed him, pouncing at Calvin like an enemy and pinned him down with a grin.

"Winter days. Boy, you can't beat `em, can you?"

"Nope." agreed Calvin. Then, in a less than subtle raised voice, shouted toward the house.

"Boy! It should would be more fun if Chic were here!" 

No sound came from the house.

"Oh well. We tried." muttered Hobbes, then got off of Calvin.

"Let's go get the sled out. We can ride down the hill a couple of times, then come in and make some hot chocolate for us and Chic."

"Alrighty then, that sounds like a plan."

* ** *

Chic watched from the living room window. It had been almost too inviting to have left when Calvin had called to her, but she knew she couldn't make friends now. It was all over for that. Calvin had ended potential friendship (at least until she killed him). 

She watched in silent enmity as Calvin and Hobbes walked into the garage and exited, the toboggan in hand. It was big enough for one boy and two tigers. Sure, they had called for her, but now they were going and they knew that Chic was inside the house, stewing in anger, without any other attempt to ask if she wanted to come.

This ends now.

* ** *

Calvin turned his head to the sound of a door smacking open on its hinges. 

The front door had blown open, almost shattered off of its hinges, and from the black void inside the house darted a yellow-ochre blur.

"Chic! You've decided to come with us then?"

She had decided on something alright. A happy grin was stained on her face. If one had looked at her maniacal grin, one might have said she had gone crazy with joy.

Or at least crazy.


	9. Final Confrontation

Disclaimer: I do not own Calvin and Hobbes…yet. Mwahahahahahaha!

" Black Man: Hey, y`all. This class be tight.

You go from slopah to propah."

Bart: Cooool!

_Rushes inside to find elderly lady at chalkboard_

Lady: Hello class, and welcome to the ' Proper Young 

Man's Etiquette Class.

Bart: But the black man said-

Lady: Are you accusing my husband of misleading 

You? Why, I ought to bust a cap in your ass."

~Simpsons~

"Chic, it's good to see that your ou-"

"Calvin duck!"

Hobbes leapt forward, a blur for a moment, and abruptly knocked Calvin to the snow. He forced a cough as Chic leapt over their heads. Hobbes looked up in time to catch her return force right to his head.

"This ends now!" She hissed. 

Calvin backed up a step, but Hobbes arched his back like an orange tabby in a fight with a dog. His claws extended, but not nearly enough as his new foe.

Chic hissed again, throwing spittle everywhere. Hobbes growled.

Chic made the first move, slashing forward, leaving a cut along Hobbes leg. It wasn't long, but it was pretty deep. Hobbes roared with pain and started to thrash in the white fluffiness, leaving his fluids behind. Chic laughed and came again.

Hobbes, still slashing, looked up long enough to get a long vertical slash running along his arm. White hot pain blinded him. Hobbes collapsed in a heap to the ground as Chic stepped forward.

"We all kinda knew that I could take your place. I just had to assure that I do."

Chic raised her jaw and opened her maw when suddenly something blunt made contact, rather abruptly, across her skull. She grunted with pain and confusion as she plummeted the snow.

Behind Chic stood Calvin, a piece from their outdoor firewood holder in his hands.

"Chic…I don't know what has gotten into you, but I think it's high time that you either stop, or you just leave."

Chic's snarled disappeared. Her scowl lines melted into her furry face and her claws retracted into their paws.

"B-but Calvin." she said in a hidden, false voice. "I thought we were friends."

"We were until you decided to get rid of Hobbes. It would have been better if you could just have lived with him."

"Bu-" 

Chic was silenced as Hobbes knocked her down from behind. She growled and fell into the snow, thrashing about. 

"Calvin! Hold her at bay! I have an idea!" And with that Hobbes disappeared over the fence and into the neighbor's yard.

"I hope that idea wasn't 'leave you best friend to run away.'" Suddenly, he really did hope that's what it was, because Chic was getting up, and Calvin had nothing to protect him with.


	10. To Die by the Claw

Disclaimer: I just don't own Calvin and Hobbes. I don't know what my problem is…

"This is my sandbox…I'm not allowed to go in the deep end." 

~Ralph Wiggim~ "Simpsons"

If Calvin's life had been a comic, and a viewer had seen him this instant, one would have laughed, for Calvin was backed against a wall, sweat drenching him in exaggerated amounts despite the cold snow, and at his humongous bugged eyes.

However, in the real world, Calvin was almost to the point of pissing his pants. He knew this wasn't the type of thing, after all, Chic was only a girl, but rather a girl TIGER. That made a worldly difference. And with Hobbes, who should be at his side, that stupid, mangy fleabag, just wasn't.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Here Chic was, trying to kill him. This wasn't in the script. This was supposed to be a grateful, albeit stressful time of year. God (and his Mom) had given him this chance, a wonderful chance, at a rather good spontaneous act of good will. This could make up for a whole year of his lousy, selfish, misbehaving (`nother words, Calvin-like) self. Then it all shambled apart. Santa probably wouldn't even give him stuff through "Bubonic Plague Vile" now, and he would be dead to go along with it.

"Ch-ch-chic…please, you don't want to do this."

She merely smiled and clashed her teeth together.

Where on Earth was that flea-condo? Hobbes couldn't even save Calvin the right way.

Of course, Calvin was suddenly proven wrong. Hobbes had done something, it just wasn't a good something.

"Hey Calvin, I see you got a new tiger." Calvin turned to stare at Susie, who had managed to poke herself over the fence on her tippy-toes. "What's his name?"

"_Susie, good Lord, get off my property!"_

"I'm not on your yard, and if you don't want me over, just say so."

Susie frowned and sulked away. 

What was _that_ supposed to solve? Grumbled Calvin as Chic began to come again.

Calvin ran. Pure and simple. No stuttering for snow or logs again, just a blind and panicky sprint across the yard, leaping over a hedge, through the bushes, under the lower branches of the giant Elm on the side lawn, and he kept going. He managed to duck under another hedge. He coughed harshly from the cold air under the sticky, snowy pines and tried to peer out, to see if Chic was coming.

The snow that suddenly plopped off from the top of the bush made Calvin realize how strong the hedge was and how light (yet muscular) Chic was.

As Calvin stared up into the smiling grin of Chic hovering above him, he decided that, if he was to die, it wouldn't be without a fight. 

And with that, Calvin dug in deep to his lungs, hurled the largest lugie he could conjure into Chic's face, and muttered "Drop dead, Chic."


	11. The Last Stand

This may be the final episode of the story. Or the second to last. I don't know yet.

Disclaimer: I ain't owning no Calvin and Hobbes…sorry.

"That's where I saw the leprechaun…he told me to burn things."

~Ralph Wiggim~ "Simpsons"

"Well, ya done grand, laddie! Now you know what you gotta do now: burn the house down! Burn `em all!"

~Ralph's Leprechaun~ "Simpsons"

This hadn't gone according to plan. Chic wasn't supposed to be sitting there, dripping with saliva. Still, it was enough to give Calvin a pretty good head start to the front lawn. He was pretty grateful.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, Calvin soon realized, as the shrubbery behind him was mutilated and a rather pissed Chic began to tear across the snow.

"Eeep!" he uttered and managed to dig up a little bit of more energy, a little more of the will to survive, and managed to get just a little faster. 

Calvin eep!-ed again as he felt several sharp points stick into his back and he was thrown to the ground, backflipping, turning, then landing face-down.

Calvin struggled to his feet and took another slash to his face, running parallel lines of crimson across his cheek. Another push and a kick to the stomach. He grunted and was shoved hard into the bush behind him. He breathed hard, spat out the blood filling his mouth, and looked up in time to take another slashing to his chest. He shrieked and collapsed to his knees.

It seemed like an eternity, albeit in real time it had been three seconds, but Calvin could swear he had watched Chic circle around him forever, interrogating him almost. He could barely hear her, however. There was another noise. It sounded like a car choking to life, and then an angry buzz of bees. Calvin grimaced and coughed up more blood.

"Well, I'm afraid this is your final stand, Calvin. Think about it…we could have been _powerful_ together. Nothing would stand in our way. We could have ditched Hobbes. I could make a better tiger than he ever could. Imagine what we could have done! Ruled the neighborhood, ruled this whole stinking town! We could stop by the Meijer your mother picked me up from! I would rub it in the other animals' faces! They said I would never be picked, that my plans for revenge on them wouldn't be accomplished! Now I can do it, and I would have preferred you had been on my shoulder. But alas that cannot be. And don't worry, I'll take good care of Hobbes for you. I was originally going to kill him first, but I'm really going to savor this moment, albeit I am disappointed."

Calvin groaned, because amongst Chic he could hear the droning of the bees again.

Time to filibuster.

"Y-you're right Chic."

Calvin hadn't been watching. He was in his own realm currently, amongst the Chic and the Bees, but he was still in this world enough to be able to stall Chic long enough for…what? What was he expecting to come out of this? He didn't know, but he hoped it would be good. 

Chic, who had had her claws raised, stopped them above Calvin's blonde head. She would still kill him, but he wanted to hear him try to stall her anyway.

"W-we could have been p-p-powerful. I have some bodies to bury too, but I would like to kill them too. Think, we could g-g-get Susie, and every other girl in my class. Then we could cut open Roz for all the cruel times she's given me." Calvin hated to say the next part, but it would be the only way Chic wouldn't cut him open. "And we could get H-hobbes too."

A tangy, wonderful taste filled Chic's mouth at the mention of slashing open Hobbes. She liked the idea of Calvin deflecting to the away team. Hobbes would like this. 

The sound of bees seemed to get louder.

However, she just couldn't. Her whole speech had been crap, and she hadn't meant a word, at least, not most of it.

Bees getting closer.

"Well, Calvin, as tempting as it is, I most decline your offer."

Bees really loud now, really close. 

Chic raised her claws.

Calvin looked up, and all seemed to stop.

"When you get to hell," started Chic, "tell them Chic sentcha!" 

Suddenly, as the blades of the snowblower came across Chic, ending her life, she realized that she should have killed the tiger first.

It happened so fast that Calvin had almost missed it. Chic wore an expression of mixed horror and surprise. This most _definitely _hadn't been in the script. Calvin watched as the blades turned and caught onto Chic's tail. The machine sputtered and choked as the tail caught, and as the feet disappeared, but after that had gotten through it went like a breeze. Silently, Chic was sucked underneath and into the blades. From the exit pipe came a wave of blood and several muscle tissues. No more would appear. The blood stained the snow a dark crimson along with the muscle tissue and organ shreds (months later, as Calvin's Dad would mow the lawn, he would notice just before it was sucked up by the mower, he saw only gray, faded shreds of stuffing).

Then it was all over, and the sound of bees was shut off.

Behind the blower stood Hobbes.

"H-h-hobbes!" choked Calvin as he struggled off of the ground.

"Calvin! Are you alright?" He said, running from the snowblower.

"What does it look like, idiot?" Calving groaned as Hobbes helped him to his feet. "Well, at least your second plan worked."

"Second? That was my first." Calvin frowned. "So Susie just came over on her own?" "Looks like it." 

Calvin shrugged it off. "Where did you get the snowblower?"

"Stole it from the Smith's yard." Calvin looked over the fence to see the Smith's garage door open and leading from it tracks that looked like what a tiger with a snowblower would make.

"Let's get in. We should probably clean up." groaned Calvin. Hobbes helped him up. "You know, too bad that it turns out she was so evil and whatnot. She was kinda cute. Yowza yowza!"

"Drop dead, Hobbes. She tried to kill you! Me too-"

"-with her cute green eyes, and I'm sure I could get her to call me Pootie Pie. Yowza!"

"Only you." muttered Calvin, who got a laugh out of Hobbes. The two turned from the killing ground, laughing. How could they not? It was the best day of the year, the Saturday before Christmas, and a fresh layer of snow was starting to fall from the sky…

Fin` 

(I _might_ make a sequel. Depends on how much people review this last chapter.)


End file.
